


Life Boat

by pipisafoat



Category: NCIS
Genre: Community: rounds_of_kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-28
Updated: 2011-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-19 20:46:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipisafoat/pseuds/pipisafoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Rounds of Kink, June 2009, for the kink of "broken characters" and prompt "Losing Kate, being beaten by a hitman and then getting framed for what looked to be a very sadistic murder has taken its toll on Tony."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Boat

On the inside of my closet door, there's an index card that says When you can handle the death of a colleague easily, you need a new job. This isn't the kind of door you swing open to look at the card, though. If you want to see this card, you do what I do when the going gets rough. And no, despite what I tell McGee, that's not party. I slide my closet door open, throw my shoes out, sit on the floor, and close the door behind me.

I think I've spent more time inside this closet than out of it lately, and there are some new cards taped up. Childhood came before adulthood for a reason - so you could forget it in your old age. Never go undercover unless you know who the target is. It's time to add a new one to the collection. Index card, sharpie... I think a dark purple will do this one justice. In slow, careful block letters, I print NO MORE LAB MONKEYS.

It's good enough for me. A piece of tape to attach it to the door, and I'm stepping inside. My shoes have taken up residence under my bed to give me easy access these days, so it's a simple matter of sliding the door shut behind me and sitting down again. I pull my knees up to my chin, look at my wall of failures, focusing on the pictures of Kate and Abby, and slowly tune out the outside world for a little while.

* * *

  
They met in Baltimore. That's fairly common knowledge, but nobody who wasn't there knows about the exact circumstances. The basics are burned into both of their minds - serial killer, little boys, a couple of them Navy dependents (cue Gibbs and his 'team' - a Goth lab rat who had to call the man to help him set up a video conference and a medical examiner who wouldn't shut up). It wasn't until four boys had died that the killer started raping them. First after they died, then before. The last boy was found before he died, and Gibbs is the only person who knows exactly what Tony did that night, because his was the door that got knocked on.

"That little boy is going to wish he'd been one of the dead ones," Tony slurred somewhere into his fifth beer, the first words spoken since "I have cheap beer." He pointed at Gibbs. "Don't forget his name, because he'll come to us one day and say, 'Why did you save me? Can't you see the hell you sentenced me to?'"

Gibbs looked at Tony calmly. "Would you rather he died?"

The younger man laughed. "Me? No, but that's my selfish desire. To save everyone, be the superhero, get all the helpless maidens after saving them from distress, have a sidekick who wears Spandex and worships my shiny little ass. Be something."

"What makes you think he'd rather die?"

Another short laugh. "I've seen it before, Gibbs. If he lives to adulthood, it'll be his choice, and he'll hate us every step of the way."

He nodded slowly. "And if he'd asked you, would you have put a bullet in his head, right then and there?"

Tony considered this for a minute. "I don't know," he finally answered, setting his nearly empty bottle on the floor beside him. "I wish I could say yes, I'd help him, or no, I would never kill an innocent, but I don't know. I don't deal well with death, but I deal with life only marginally better."

It's this conversation that Gibbs remembers years later, when Tony's shiny hero ass is his and said ass isn't shining too brightly. "You will not die," he tells Tony, and he wants to add that the sidekick always dies first, but somewhere along the way, he's realized that Tony thinks of him as the hero now. A drunken phone call in the middle of the night discussing Tony's spandex brought his obvious hero-worship into sharp focus. Gibbs has never wanted a sidekick, but he'd take a partner in a heartbeat, just so long as it's someone worth partnering.

"You will not die," he says again, and this time he smacks his agent on the head. Gently, trying not to set off another coughing attack, but a smack none the less. _"I almost wish my father had hit me,"_ Tony'd said one night during a stakeout. _"At least then he would have been sober enough to move. He would have had to put some kind of effort into me instead of just sitting there, occasionally insulting me."_ It may have been a screwed up, ridiculous, convoluted, no-psychiatrist-would-ever-approve-it decision, but later that night, Gibbs had smacked the back of his head instead of yelling at him, and the look on his subordinate's face had been worth taking the risk. They never talked about it, but Gibbs had seen the reactions whenever someone else tried to headslap him.

The quip about women calling for Spanky is a lie, but he knows he has to say something to lighten the mood. Knows that Tony doesn't need to focus on dying still be a possibility, knows that coming in without a mask was a good show that he wasn't as bad off as he could be. (Knows he's still going to be subjected to blood tests and isolation showers before he can leave the hospital, but it's worth it.) He thinks that maybe mentioning women will be an incentive for him to get better, or if that doesn't work, maybe the thought of Gibbs wondering why he's Spanky will keep him occupied. Maybe the thought of arguing with Kate about it will give him a reason to get better.

Gibbs studiously ignores the question rising on Tony's face and walks out of the door without looking back. _"My mother always looked back at me a thousand times on her way out of a room,"_ he'd said conversationally in the middle of a car chase. _"She never trusted that I'd do what I was told, which was usually to stay right where I was. Makes me wish suspects were all as well-behaved as I am. Why do they always run?"_ Gibbs had followed it up with a comment about him not being as well-behaved as he thought he was, but then they'd had to get out and pursue on foot, bringing an effective close to that conversation. He's not quite sure, but as he follows Dr Pitt into another room, he thinks that Tony kept throwing his all these tidbits to show him exactly how he wanted to be treated. Maybe not on purpose, he muses, but at least subconsciously, and a good Marine learns quickly. Tony's still here, after all, and it's already longer than any of his other jobs.

* * *

  
Kate dies, and it's far too long before Gibbs is back to himself enough to notice how the rest of his team is coping. He spends a few hours with Abby one slow day, extracts a promise that she's taking care of McGee, has dinner with Ducky, and isn't surprised when he finds himself at Tony's apartment not long after leaving the restaurant. He is surprised to find Tony there, door unlocked, unopened beer getting warm on the coffee table in front of him.

"Hey, Boss," he greets emotionlessly, and Gibbs sits besides him, grabs his chin in one hand.

"DiNozzo, you coughing again? Breathing okay?" He studies his friend's eyes for clues, not surprised to see nothing.

Tony shrugs. "I'm good."

"No, you aren't. You look like you just left the damn hospital. I'm calling Ducky."

A hand grabs his wrist before he can wrestle his phone out of his pants pocket without standing. "This is how I always look. You should know that."

And Gibbs pauses, thinks it over. Baltimore, the kid who should have died. DC, the interviewer telling him the job history wasn't going to get him a job there. Baltimore, the partner who killed himself in the middle of the bullpen. DC again, Gibbs telling the interviewer to go to hell and let him pick his own team. It's true, though he isn't quite sure what the last memory should tell him. He's gotten distracted by the recent plague and forgotten the other cause for these eyes.

"Yeah," is all he offers in return, settling into the couch and releasing Tony's chin. He wonders what it says about the two of them that neither of them have cried, that both of them look like shit but won't do the one thing that would help. Even in his own mind, he knows that 'being a man' and not crying is completely overrated, and he tells himself to shut up and go to hell. It works, to his surprise, and he stares blankly at a picture on the wall, not even registering the happier Tony in it for what must be hours. Their silence is finally broken by the opening of the now room-temperature beer, and after he takes a swig, he hands it to Tony, and they pass it back and forth like a peace pipe until there's about a third left.

Tony stands up then and opens a window. "Go free," he says quietly, slowly pours the beer into the cool night air. Gibbs rests his elbows on his knees, hangs his head, and sends a silent prayer out to mix with the drink.

It's not enough, but after about a week of this, they're both passing for normal, and life goes on. Ziva becomes a permanent fixture, Gibbs catches Tony about to say something to Kate a half dozen times, and they all pretend it's okay, because even though it isn't, there's nothing anyone can do about it.

* * *

  
Ziva hasn't been on the team for two weeks before Gibbs has to say something to her about Tony. He wonders, as they get into the elevator, if now is a good time to bring up Rule Twelve, but he doesn't think she's leaning that way with the harassment. He flips the emergency stop and turns slowly to face her.

"Do you conduct all of your meetings in the elevators?" she asks before he can speak, and he feels the muscles in his face tighten.

"Only the ones that shouldn't be overheard," he returns. "Back off of Tony."

She looks at him, and he's a little disconcerted to realize that he can't read her expression. "Maybe a little teasing is what it takes for us to become friends."

"Teasing is one thing. Stop it with the Civil War, and back off of his childhood."

Ziva shrugs. "Perhaps I can do that."

In a second, she's pinned against the wall of the elevator, a forearm to her throat. "This is not debatable, Officer David. Off his past or off the team. If he shares, he shares. Otherwise, it's not for you to know."

Her eyes narrow calculatingly and she slides out of his grasp. He lets her go easily, and her face shows that she knows it. "Why is everybody insisting on kid mittens?"

"In case you've forgotten, we recently lost a teammate and friend." Gibbs flips the switch, feels the elevator shudder back to life, and hopes that losing the constant interrogation will help Tony get back to himself.

* * *

  
When he walks out of Interrogation, Gibbs is surprised to see Tony leaning against the wall opposite him. "You lose team members before?" he hears, quiet but intense.

"More than once," he answers, matching volume and tone. "So have you."

Tony shrugs. "Never stuck around to see them replaced."

Oh. Gibbs leans sideways against the wall, facing Tony. "No."

"No, what?"

"No, it's not going to go away any time soon. Years, Tony. You're always going to look up and expect, just for a second, to see Kate. You're always going to see the little differences between her and Ziva, and for a while, you're going to find Ziva lacking. A bad second model. It'll change. You'll learn to see them as two different people, But the truth is, Tony, it's gonna hurt."

The younger man nodded slowly, still not facing his boss. "I thought maybe staying, seeing it through, being with everyone else on the team... I thought maybe it'd be easier."

Gibbs sighs slowly. "It may not be easier, but it is worth it."

"You sure about that?" Tony rocks his head along the wall until he's staring straight at Gibbs, and the pain in his eyes hits the older man hard in the gut.

"Yeah." Tony's gaze rolls back to the Interrogation door. "What brought this up?"

He shrugs. "You remember that ex-SEAL, Curtin, and his wife's lover that ended up being the wife instead of the man?"

"Where Kate pretended to be the wife to nab Curtin. Yeah." Gibbs narrows his eyes at Tony's profile. "And?"

"It's just... Ziva couldn't have done that. She couldn't... yeah, matter of time, different people. I know." Tony sighs. "Boss, can you just... give me a break from her for a while?"

"You have to learn to work with her." Gibbs briefly considers reaching out, putting a hand on Tony's shoulder, but the decision is taken out of his hands as Tony pushes off of the wall and starts pacing.

"I know," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I will. I just need some time. Everything's still reminding me of Kate, and it's not fair to Ziva."

Gibbs reaches out and stops Tony's pacing with a hand on his elbow. "Okay. If you tell me how you got to Kate and Curtin."

Tony snorts out what might be a short laugh. "We thought it was the man, but it was his wife. M for W, boyfriend for girlfriend."

Gibbs looks at him silently for a moment before nodding. "Alright. You're with me, for now." And if he pretends not to see the grief still mixed in with the flood of relief and gratefulness, it's nobody's business but Tony's, and when he brings a pizza by that evening, it's just dinner between friends. He has a harder time rationalizing sleeping on Tony's couch, having not drunk anything, but when his agent cries out in the middle of the night, he's is glad to be there, despite the potentially awkward morning. It isn't the first time they've shared a bed, but Gibbs decides that he'd rather hold Tony than help him cough any day.

* * *

  
By the time he's done with Jamie Carr, all he wants to do is go home and work on his boat until all visions of home porn are wiped from his head. As he goes to write down some notes for the report he'll write tomorrow, he sees Tony and Ziva still at their desks.

"Oh, hey, Boss, McGee left his report on your desk."

Gibbs picks it up and flips through it. "I can see that, DiNozzo. Where's yours?"

"Almost done."

"Same here, Gibbs."

Ziva doesn't even look up from her computer, but when he glances at Tony, Gibbs sees him mouth "Thank you," and nods in return, sitting down to read through McGee's report.

"Tony, I have a question for you," Ziva says, putting on her jacket to leave. Gibbs glances up from her report, wary of her tone.

Tony doesn't turn from the printer, collecting the pages of his report as they come out. "What's that, Ziva?"

"This interactive internet porn... what do you call it?"

"Cyber sex," Tony answers distractedly, straightening his papers and reaching for the stapler.

"Ah, right. Cyber sex." Gibbs isn't sure if she's purposefully avoiding his warning glare, but even though he doesn't know where this conversation is going, he's sure she'll regret it. "So, this is more desirable than phone sex?"

 _"Well, yes, Ziva, unless you don't like to **see** the other person,"_ he expects to hear, but instead, Tony slams the stapler back on his desk, tosses the report in Gibbs's general direction, and slams the door to the stairs behind him.

He turns his gaze back on Ziva, but she's focused on the zipper of her jacket. "Ziva," he says quietly, and she finally meets his stare.

"I did not expect that reaction," she says. He raises one eyebrow, and she continues. "Okay, maybe I should not have said it, but the first time I met him, he was pretending to have phone sex."

And that would have been right after Kate. There's no telling what he was actually doing, but judging from his reaction... "And?"

"And then he said he was remembering his partner." Ziva looks down at the floor. "He was telling the truth."

"Do ya think?" Gibbs stands, snags his jacket, and strides towards the elevator. "I want his report stapled and on my desk," he calls over his shoulder, hoping at least one of the pages he stepped on needs to be reprinted.

When he pulls up at Tony's later that night, he's surprised not to see the other man's car. He isn't sure why he decides to pick the lock, but he wakes up in the morning on the couch, alone in the apartment. As he borrows the guest room shower, he tells himself that the strange feeling in his stomach is just hunger.

* * *

  
He hates kids.

No, that's not true. He hates dealing with kids when he's working, but he could never hate kids. Hell, he's never found even one he couldn't tolerate, and more often than not, he likes them a lot.

Zach is different. Gibbs already misses him, already hopes the boy will come visit him some. It doesn't really help that his team was calling him 'Mini-Gibbs'.

Kelly had always been more like Shannon. Outgoing, friendly, talkative, imaginative... They'd wanted another kid, a son, and Shan had always said he'd be just like her husband and that having a little brother would be good for Kelly.

Zach is exactly how he'd always envisioned his son. Working on the boat with him let Gibbs almost pretend they were family, almost picture Kelly and Shannon in the basement with them. When it hit him that not only was this someone else's son, but he couldn't just wish his family back into his life, Zach didn't question his sudden retreat, the bourbon he tossed back as a reflex. Instead, the kid hugged him. Hugged him, and apologized. Like it was his fault.

Gibbs sighs and notices that he's leaning against the boat instead of working on it. At least his team hasn't asked him anything, he thinks. Ziva and McGee probably didn't even notice, but he knows that Tony and Abby both picked up on... something. He wishes he had some clue what they might suspect, but he doesn't have the energy to try to figure it out.

A quiet "Boss?" from the stairs pulls him out of his thoughts. He raises a hand to wipe at his eyes, glad to find them dry, and turns around.

"What are you doing here, DiNozzo?" he asks tiredly. "Go home."

Tony shrugs. "I was in the neighborhood," he answers. "Thought I'd drop by and see how much work you and the kid got done on the boat."

It's like a punch in the gut, and before he knows what's happening, Gibbs has stumbled back a few steps and essentially collapsed on his workbench. "Gonna burn it this weekend," he chokes out, head dropping onto his chest. "Shouldn't have..."

"No." He flinches away from the hand on his shoulder before he can stop himself, and Tony pulls it back. "Look, I'm not going to make you talk to me, but you at least need to call Abby, even if you don't tell her anything."

Gibbs looks up at his friend, hating himself for letting his too-old grief get the better of him. "Why?"

"Because I just spent three hours convincing her that she doesn't need to do a deep background search on you," Tony answers quietly. "Because she cares about you enough to risk your anger if she did do it. Because the whole time I was telling her not to, all I could think was that maybe that's what you need, even if you wouldn't want it. Because she sees you as a father, and it hurts us all when you hurt."

"I'm nobody's father." _Anymore_ , he adds silently, and the heartbreak he feels must show in his voice, because Tony's hand finds its way back onto his shoulder, pulls him into a half-hug.

"Well, you're something to Abbs," Tony says, fingers tracing a random pattern on his shoulder. "Favorite uncle, maybe. Whatever you want to call it, you're family, and she's worried about you."

"So she sent you to check on me."

Tony laughs. "Not quite. I almost had to tie her down to keep her from coming with me, but it was my decision." His hand floats up to Gibbs's head, pulls it down onto his shoulder. "I thought maybe she'd be a bit much for you now."

He nods, relaxes against Tony. "Yeah." It's the closest he'll get to an apology or a thank you, and when the younger man squeezes his shoulder, he knows it's accepted. "Favorite uncle?"

Tony shrugs. "'Papa bear' is what she called you, but whatever you want to call it."

"And you?" There's suddenly some tension in his friend, and he isn't quite sure what to make of that.

"Abby had good parents," he answers. "It's a compliment for her to call you a father. Trust me, the same isn't true for all of us."

"So that story about your dad leaving you in a hotel..."

Another shrug. "Essentially true."

"Essentially?" He's drilled into all of his agents that telling the truth is absolutely necessary, among team members, at least. With Tony, he had to work on the man's penchant for telling half-truths, withholding part of the story, and he thought they were past that lesson for the most part.

"It wasn't my dad who realized I was missing," he answers, turning his head away. "His accountant called the hotel to fight the charges. The desk attendant had to call his brother, a lawyer, to get them to fly me home and pay the bill." A short, bitter laugh forces its way out of him. "And before you ask, no, it wasn't the first time that happened, but it is at least part of the reason I was disowned."

Gibbs sighs and shakes his head. "The more I hear, the more grateful I am that you were," he murmurs. "Except for the part where you lost your family."

"Got a new family now," he says, squeezing Gibbs again. "A real family."

"And I guess I'm the father for this whole family. Tell me, who are my kids?" He hopes the bitterness, the sadness doesn't come through, but he suspects it does when Tony stiffens again.

"You're not my dad," he says sharply. "Claim Abby all you want. Take McGee. Hell, if you want her, you can have Ziva, too, but I don't want another dad. I just want you, Boss."

"Want me how? Because I don't know how to be anything to you right now. I'm not much of a boss, letting your teammates get to you. I'm not doing much of a daddy role, and mommy's straight out the window." Gibbs pushes Tony away, stands up, walks over and runs his hands over the boat. "Fuck, Tony, I'm not passing as a friendly acquaintance these days, much less an actual friend. Maybe you need to cut your losses and leave. It's already been quite a bit longer than two years. I never expected you'd stay this long."

Instead of the defensive anger he expects, he's met with a quiet kind of acceptance. "You never planned on having me around for more than two years," Tony says softly. "I threw you off when I stayed. Ruined your plans. Well, consider them just delayed. If you don't want me around, I'll leave."

He doesn't know why he doesn't say anything, why he lets Tony just leave like that. It takes him back to Diane, to Stephanie, to every single woman he's been with in one way or another since Shannon. Half of them he drove out like this before anything could happen. The other half of them tried to cause him bodily harm on their way out the door. For some reason, he expected Tony to be in that half.

"Maybe," he growls to himself, picking up a sander, "it's because you don't tell him anything, so he doesn't know where he stands with you." He sighs to himself and starts the slow, repetitive motions, hoping he can lose himself in the boat tonight and skip the bourbon.

* * *

  
 _It's jealousy,_ Gibbs realizes suddenly. _I'm jealous of Ziva, and it's not even real._ Then he remembers the FBI agents' comments about his two not faking anything, and the little flame in his gut flares up again.

Tony takes that moment to announce his desire for a divorce, and Gibbs never realized he could feel so many different things at once. He's relieved it's not real, he's pissed off that he thought it was, he's annoyed that Tony's treating divorce like a joke, he's ashamed of... well, he's not quite sure, but it's definitely there. Maybe it's the fact that he can't shake this need to have Tony near him.

When he shows up at Tony's place that night, Chinese in hand, he's relieved to find the other man there, watching TV with a throw pillow over his face. "You alright?" he asks softly, not wanting aggravate the headache any more.

"Mmhmm," Tony replies. "I smell food."

Gibbs smiles despite himself. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Nope. I was waiting for you to show up, apparently." He sits up, pulls the pillow off his face. "And here I thought I just couldn't decide what to eat." His grin widens when he sees his boss smiling. "Well, sit down, already. There’s a Bond move starting in ten minutes." He walks out of the room, comes back a minute later with a fork and two beers.

"Gonna have to teach you how to use chopsticks some day," Gibbs says around a mouthful of sweet-and-sour chicken. Tony just laughs.

"Better men than you have tried," he says, then pauses. "Actually, no. Other people have tried, but I wouldn't call them better."

Visions of Tony in spandex dance through his head, and he shakes it to get rid of them. Just because Tony's saying this doesn't mean he's counting himself in the lesser men. He shrugs and steals a bite of Tony's rice. "You're better with your hands than you give yourself credit for."

"And you know this how?" The line sounds a bit flirty to him, and the accompanying look on Tony's face makes him shift a bit in his seat.

"Maybe I should just ask Ziva," he says, instantly regretting it.

Tony's eyes go hard and cold in an instant. "While you're polling people who have no clue, ask yourself," he answers. "If this is how you handle me going under cover with her, I'll go ahead and give my next resignation letter straight to the Director. You do realize that telling me to quit and then shredding my resignation isn't particularly effective?"

He sets down his dinner, leans forward with his elbows on his knees, and drops his head. He'd thought maybe they could just forget about all that, but it seems he was wrong. "Yeah, I do."

"If you were keeping me around just to get through this assignment, fine. I'm gone now. Next time, send McGee in with her. I'm done." Tony picks up his food, looks at it for a second, and puts it back down. "You said it was worth it."

Gibbs frowns, looks over at his friend. "What?"

"Staying. Seeing Kate replaced. You said it was worth it." Tony sighs, drops his head against the back of the couch. "Well, you were right about part of it. I can't get rid of Kate. She's always there. She's here now, wondering why you brought Chinese instead of pizza. And now, yeah, Ziva's part of the team, too. Not the family, at least, not to me, but part of the team, and that makes her my responsibility. So when I think she's going to get killed, all I can see is Kate standing in front of me, telling me not to lose her again. And you know what I do?" He laughs humorlessly, rolls his head to the side, and meets Gibbs's eyes. "I tell her that I won't. It's my job. And then I send Ziva away, knowing that there's a good chance I won't make it out."

Gibbs nods slowly. "Kate wasn't your fault. She--"

In a flash, Tony's shoved him hard against the arm of the couch. "Don't you dare, okay? Don't you fucking dare take the blame for that clusterfuck. All Ari, and you got him in the end." Before he knows what's happening, the younger man's mouth is pressed against his, hard, and then withdrawn just as quickly. "I'm just glad it would have been me and not you, not Probie, not Abby. Me, in that room." He falls back into his previous position on the far end of the couch. "Nobody could stand to lose any of you guys, but you'd be okay without me."

"No," Gibbs says quietly, still stunned. "No, we wouldn't be okay without you. Tony..."

"I'm going to bed," he interrupts. "Lock the door if you leave; sleep wherever you want to, but no more talking for tonight." And when Gibbs slides into bed with him a couple hours later, he curls into the older man's arms and mumbles something in his sleep, and Gibbs lays awake the rest of the night, imagining brutal tortures for the father who let his kid get so insecure.

* * *

  
Pizza has always been their thing. Kate always bought Chinese or some health crap when it was her turn to get dinner, but Gibbs and Tony always went for pizza, and whenever one went to the other's house, he brought pizza. Gibbs hopes that the easy familiarity of pizza and Gibbs helped his agent, though judging by the rambling, it wasn't as effective as hoped. Then again, he seems to be okay now, but that's to be expected. He's never shown a real weakness in front of McGee, and this wouldn't be the time for him to start.

Gibbs is about to suggest he give Tony a ride home (and stay over, though that wouldn't be a suggestion) when the shit hits the fan one last time and everyone's running down to Abby's lab. When they get there, he knows that she needs him right now, sends the others to deal with Chip (thank god the rat had always hated that name), wraps her up in his arms. She breaks down on his shoulder, clings to him like a giant squid, and by the time he has her breathing normally, McGee is the only other person in the room.

"Go," Abby snuffles into his shoulder, slowly extracting herself in Tim's direction. "See to that man, and check on Tony."

McGee welcomes her into his arms and nods. "We'll be alright, Boss."

Gibbs slowly stands, kisses Abby on the head. "Call me if you need me," he says, clapping his youngest agent on the shoulder in a show of support.

"Tony," she reminds him, and he shows her his half-smile.

"Tony," he agrees, and when he finds out the man in question has left Chip with Ziva and the Director, he finds himself agreeing with Abby even more. In the excitement with Abby, he's sure everyone forgot that Tony was just in prison, that he's the one Chip was after, that he's probably blaming himself and calling Abby collateral damage.

He gets in his car, calls for a pizza, and as he parks in front of Tony's apartment building, the delivery guy pulls up. He pays, takes the pizza, opens the unlocked front door, and immediately draws his gun. The younger man always locks his door, and if Chip had any other accomplices, this would be the opportune time for them to step up to the plate.

He quickly goes through each room of the apartment - living room, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom - and when he finds nobody, he pulls out his phone, carefully positioned to keep an eye on the door, and calls Tony. He's not surprised when he can hear the ring, but when he discovers it's coming from the bedroom closet, he slides the safety off his gun and gets ready to call for backup.

The door makes a soft noise when it slides open, and Gibbs tenses as he sees a body curled up on the floor. "Tony?" Unfocused eyes struggle to meet his gaze, and when he sees the tear tracks, he sets his gun down carefully and reaches for Tony. "You okay?"

"Gibbs?" His voice sounds harsh, unused, and Gibbs runs his hands gently over every piece of the man in front of him, searching for an injury.

"Yeah, I'm here. What happened?"

Tony shrugs and sits up, sliding away without pulling out of Gibbs's grasp. "Abby," he answers simply, tilting his head slightly towards the empty space beside him. Gibbs hesitates, wondering why the closet, why _him_ , and he hears what sounds suspiciously like Ducky's voice. "You're the best person for this, Jethro." He looks around the room cautiously, shakes his head, tries to ignore it.

"You want the door closed?" he asks, settling himself beside Tony with his legs tucked up to his chest. When the younger man nods, he slides it shut and feels his breath catch in his throat. " _Jesus_ , Tony," he whispers when he can finally swallow around the knot. "The hell is all this?"

He shrugs awkwardly, picking absently at a fingernail. "Just stuff." The inside of the door is covered with index cards, scraps of paper, even what looks like the back of a business card, all with something different written on them. Gibbs is distracted from trying to read a few when Tony scoots a tiny bit closer and leans just barely into his space.

"C'mere," he says softly, wrapping an arm around the younger man's shoulders. "How long..."

"Long time." He points - with his middle finger, Gibbs notices, not his index, does he do that all the time? - to the business card. Calling for help has consequences for the caller and the help, he reads silently, and he flips the card up to look at the opposite side. Daniel Bremer, Attorney at Law. Tony presses the card back down before he can read any more. "Twelve years old. This one," a scrap of newspaper written on with a blue crayon, "five years old. The first."

Daddy lied. Mommy isn't Mommy. _Jesus._ All he can do is squeeze Tony's shoulder, pull him closer. He starts to read over some of the other cards before noticing the line of pictures above them. _Oh, God._ The first several, he doesn't recognize, but the fact that some of them are obviously crime scene photos doesn't escape him. When he sees the last four on the wall, the kid from their Baltimore case and Tony's old partner, Kate and Abby, it's like a body blow, and he wonders how Tony's kept it together this long, because he wants to tear things apart and set them on fire just seeing that line of pictures.

"Ton--" A hand pressing gently over his eyes makes him pause.

"My wall of failures," he breathes into Gibbs's ear, "and my list of lessons learned." He slowly removes the hand, and the older man doesn't open his eyes. "Is Abby okay?" he asks. "She knows I don't blame her for the whole jail thing?"

"And she doesn't blame you for the whole Chip thing, either," Gibbs whispers hoarsely, not surprised to feel a shudder run through the younger man. "How long have you been in here?"

He expects to hear a few hours, since he left the office, but the "Since Kate" takes him by surprise. _Oh, Tony, why didn't you tell me?_ but there's no use thinking about the past right now, not when he can feel how fragile Tony is. Not when every breath shakes the man's body like he's fighting with himself, like he can't escape the demons in his own head.

"Don't," Tony murmurs. "Don't tell me it's not my fault, and don't tell me it's all okay, because it isn't."

Gibbs nods, rests his cheek on Tony's head. "Wasn't going to."

"Don't say anything."

Gibbs reaches up and strokes the side of Tony's face. _How can I take care of you when I can't say anything? Then again, maybe it's a good thing, since I have no idea what to say anyway,_ and Tony pulls away, smiles at him.

"You're here," he answers, and Gibbs can't stop himself. He hooks a hand behind Tony's neck, pulls him over, and kisses him. Gently, softly, slowly. Simple contact, not pushing for anything more, but when Tony whimpers and slides smoothly into his lap, he lets his hands curl around strong hips.

"I'm here," he says, pulling back to look at Tony. "Always here."

Tony quivers and lets a quiet whine escape the back of his throat. "Gibbs..."

He returns to the younger man's mouth, not surprised to find the sudden taste of salt, and he wipes the tears away with his thumbs, kisses the closed eyes. "Not going anywhere."

A shuddering breath, and strong hands scrabble at his back, desperately pulling his shirt over his head. "Prove it," he hears whispered against his collar bone. "Show me you mean it."

"Tony..." He thinks wildly that the Ducky in his head really needs to chime in soon, tell him if this is why he's the best person for the job, but no answer is forthcoming. "Lay down in joy," he mutters to himself, not quite sure where he's heard the phrase before.

"I take that as a no," Tony says, and Gibbs thinks it sounds more resigned than anything else.

"Take it as a raincheck." Gibbs slides the closet door open, stands slowly. "Come on. Bed time."

"You're staying?"

He nods, reaches a hand to his friend. "Until you kick me out."

"Okay." Tony stands, holding the offered hand so tightly Gibbs is afraid he might lose a couple fingers. They strip down to boxers, somehow still holding hands, and by the time they finally slide under the covers, he's afraid the younger man has wandered off into the closet again.

"Tony," he whispers, stroking the younger man's head. "You with me?"

A shrug. That's a yes, he thinks, relieved, and he tucks his chin on the top of Tony's head. "You get any sleep lately?"

Another shrug. Gibbs is the last person to say words are always necessary, but Tony isn't a quiet person usually. He shifts the head on his arm enough to restore circulation, keeps petting the soft hair. "Need anything, or you just want me to shut up?"

Tony squirms forward, presses his face a little tighter against his boss. "Don't."

"Don't shut up?" A fast nod. "You want me to talk to you?" Nod. "About what?"

There's no answer, and Gibbs sighs. "You want a bedtime story? Magic and heroes and Sir Tony, the brave dragonslayer?" He doesn't get the laugh he was going for, but the arm wrapped around his side tightens and doesn't let go. "Alright. Here goes nothing.

"Once upon a time, there was a brave young knight name Sir Tony who always had the shiniest armor in the land." Tony squirms again, pokes Gibbs in the ribs.

"Hey!" He jumps away against his will. "No Sir Tony stories?"

Tony follows him across the bed and worms his way back into his arms. "Tell me about Sir Jethro," he murmured against Gibbs's shoulder. "Tell me the story of how Sir Jethro saved the maiden in distress from the evil Fornell and the eviler Chip."

"Not tonight," he forces out through a suddenly tight throat. "Tonight, Sir Jethro would rather curl up with you and pretend it never happened."

He feels the tiniest beginnings of a smile against his neck, and suddenly, the ridiculous bedtime story doesn't seem quite so silly. "Okay."

Instead, he lays there with Tony for hours, petting his hair, rubbing his back, telling mindless fairy tales and stories from his youth until his voice sputters and dies. When he's finally quiet, the younger man rolls him onto his back and props himself up on one elbow beside him. The morning sun looks like it's giving Tony a shining crown, and Gibbs finds himself focusing on that, tearing his attention back to his friend with an effort when he speaks.

"So much for sleeping."

Gibbs huffs a half-laugh and shrugs, leans up enough kiss the haloed man on the cheek, the other cheek, a quick peck on the lips.

"Don't do this," Tony whispers, dropping his head back onto Gibbs's shoulder, stretching out on top of him. "Don't start something with me. You know me. Don't hurt yourself like that."

"Tony--" and his voice squeaks, fails him completely. _Damn it, Tony._ He reaches up, strokes the soft hair one more time, wonders what's going on in his friend's - his lover's? - head.

"I date a lot. Deep seated psychological problems, commitment issues. Angry, immature, loves control. Can't curb his urges and has a severely lacking inner censor. Seeks out father figures for approval, will act out for negative attention if approval is not forthcoming. Exhibits symptoms of undiagnosed ADHD, is incapable of focusing on appropriate goals." The words are muffled in his t-shirt, but Gibbs is shocked to hear a complete lack of anger or bitterness as they're recited. "Inferiority complex, lack of true social life, incapable of expressing emotion in a healthy way, overly sensitive to criticism, terrible with kids, fear of being rejected but also of being accepted, desire to be liked drives all of his actions though he lets nobody into his barriers."

"Shut up," Gibbs hisses, anger making his eyes sting. "Shut up." He recognizes most of the words - reports from the agency psychiatrist, snippets from Ziva's dossier, Kate's profile. Some he remembers hearing from previous employers when hiring him, others he found on performance reports and school recommendation forms.

"Good for nothing waste of space," Tony continues in an even voice. "You'll never make anything of yourself like this, boy." He laughs, and suddenly the emotion is back, the bitterness and anger. "You know all this, Gibbs. Don't make a stupid mistake with me, because I'm so fucking unstable, I just might bite your thigh, kill you, hide your legs on a Naval base. I just might be the one who stands there and lets a sniper shoot you, lets a bounty hunter gut you, lets an inexperienced agent cover your back in a bad situation."

"No," he pushes out, puts a hand over Tony's mouth. Feels the teeth dig in sharply, realizes he's shaking just listening to it, but Tony still looks completely calm.

"Shut up. This is all about me. You think you want me? Fine. You can have me." Tony shoves himself up on all fours. "You want me to fuck you real hard or be slow and gentle? Punish you for letting me go to jail or thank you for getting me out? Hurt you for letting all this shit happen to me or comfort you for all the shit that's happened to you?" He leans down and bites at Gibbs's neck, hard. Breaks the skin and then kisses it softly, licks apologetically. "Tell me how you want it and you can have it, and when you're done, you can drop me off in a psych ward and never hear from me again."

Gibbs closes his eyes, squeezes them shut, and opens them again. His voice fails him, so he flips them on the bed, pins Tony, rearranges him and wraps himself around him. "Shh," he manages. "Shh." When Tony actually stills, quiets, it takes him by surprise, and he loosens his grasp. "Shhhh."

"You have to let me," Tony whispers brokenly. "I need to fight you. I need... all this anger and this fear, and I can't just let go of it like you want me to." He rolls around, curls into Gibbs again. "I need it," he almost moans, and the older man just rubs his back. "Please..."

And the tears start to fall against his will. Gibbs sighs with relief, wonders how he did the right thing (if he did the right thing; there's nobody to explain how this man's head works, and he's not sure he'd trust anyone who tried, anyway). He holds Tony, pets him, and falls asleep with him, knowing it will take some time but hoping it's not too much. He's still praying to a God he barely believes in when he wakes up to find a still-sleeping Tony clinging to him like an inflatable raft in a hurricane, and he hopes like hell he doesn't spring a leak before Tony learns how to swim again.


End file.
